When Lightning Strikes

Chapter One NEW YORK PRESENT DAY "So, Ms. Costanza, how much sexual research do you do?" Even now, almost four hours after the Geraldo interview, Lainie winced at the offensive question. She played and replayed it in her mind, every time coming up with a witty, stinging retort. So, Geraldo, how much research did you do before you blasted Capone's basement on prime time? Of course, she hadn't said anything that clever or intelligent. Oh, no. Not her. She'd let anger get the best of heragainand spoken without thinking. "Could you ask a stupider question, Geraldo? Really, inquiring minds want to know." She winced at the memory. She should have known better than to respond so bluntly. He was much too skilled an interviewer to let some historical romance author make a fool of him on national television. He'd seen right off that she was hostile, so he'd adroitly cut her off in midsentence and gone on to another guest. A woman who did as she was supposed toblush and squirm and apologize for the books she worked so hard to create. He'd also been smart enough not to come back to Lainie. He hadn't asked her another question for the remainder of the hour. She'd sat there, pinned to her uncomfortable chair like a dead insect, barely listening to what was going on around her, waiting desperately to be let loose. God, it had been awful. It wasn't until now, hours later, in the anonymous, vast open space of John F. Kennedy International Airport, that she'd finally begun to relax. She glanced sideways at the woman beside her. Judith gave her a tense, irritated smile, and Lainie knew immediately that she shouldn't have made eye contact. Her editor was still spitting mad. "Did you have to look at your watch so often?" Judith snapped. Lainie lit up a Marlboro. Dropping her purse on the pile of cheap powder blue luggage heaped beside her left ankle, she glanced at her editor. "I only take that kind of shit from men I'm in love with." Judith shoved a well-manicured hand through her blunt-cut, Clairol-blond hair. Behind her, a steady stream of people pushed through the security check-point. "But it was so . . . hostile. You practically told America you thought you were wasting your time." "I was." "The publicity director worked damned hard to get you on that show. National exposure isn't easy." Lainie rolled her eyes. "The next time someone says the words 'national media tour,' I'm going to projectile vomit. Maybe that'll get my point across." Judith almost smiled in spite of herself and shook her head. ... I know I shouldn't have picked your manuscript out of the slush pile. I should have taken that one about the cross-dressing pirate. Now, that was a book." Lainie smiled at the familiar complaint. It was the same thing her friend had been saying for ten years. Back then, Judith had been a hungry young editorial assistant, and Lainie a dreamer. Now Jude had her own imprint, and Lainie was a New York Times best-selling author. "And especially relevant for today's readers." "I don't think you're cut out for television interviews. You were so . . . testy." Lainie laughed. "I'm a testy kind of gal. Ask anyone." Judith snatched the cigarette from Lainie and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out in a hurried puff. "Why should I bother to verify the obvious? You spend more time alone than anyone I know. If I hadn't personally seen you in the daylight, I'd swear you were aHannah, Kristin is the author of 'When Lightning Strikes' with ISBN 9780449149737 and ISBN 0449149730.